


Not My Sister

by GothamSirenSing



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Anatole flirts with her, Anatole story, Dolokhov is a lovable douche, Dolokhov sees Alexandra after the duel for help, F/M, Her sister is single, I like Anatole, I might write smut, I wanted to write this, I'm a theatre kid, Instead of going after Natasha, It's going to be a lot of fun, Judge Me, Pierre is depressed as always, So is Anatole, fight me, he goes after Natasha's older sister, i don't care, i was bored, so he's not as bad?, trust me - Freeform, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamSirenSing/pseuds/GothamSirenSing
Summary: She slowly, warily, looked back down in his direction. Her green eyes met his blue ones, and her breath hitched. He leaned in closer to Fedya Dolokhov, speaking in whispers, his eyes still locked on hers. The assassin cast a look over his shoulder toward her. It dawned on her. He was talking about her.
Relationships: Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin/Original Female Character(s), Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin/Reader
Kudos: 3





	1. The Opera

“Announcing Fedya Dolokhov!” A herald said, as a man in uniform walked in, clearly showing off. He had beautiful, green eyes and thick, dark hair with a matching, slightly graying beard. He took one look at Alexandra Rostova, took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles, making the 21 year old flush. The herald continued, “He dominates Moscow’s most brilliant young men. He stands in full view, well aware he’s attracting attention, yet as much at ease as though he were in his own room.”

"Dolokhov was in the Caucasus, and he killed the Shah's brother." Marya gushes, motioning to the uniformed man. "Now all the Moscow ladies are mad about him! Dolokhov the assassin!"

Alexa looked at the Herald and her jaw instantly dropped as the next person arrived. “Announcing Countess Helene Bezukhova.” The Herald said as the woman flounced in. In her beautiful red brown hair were green decorations to match her green gown, which left her neck and collarbones exposed. “The queen of society. Beautiful, barely clothed. Plump bare shoulders, and much-exposed neck, around which she wears a double string of pearls!” Dolokhov openly embraces the woman, pressing his mouth against her revealed neck, causing many to whisper and look on in astonishment.

Alexa’s younger sister, Natasha widened her eyes, squeezing her sister's exposed pale arm tightly. “Oh, that neck! Oh, those pearls!” She gasped. The older girl smiled at the other girl’s wonder.

Helene’s eyes trailed right past Alexandra and right at Natasha. She instantly smiled at the younger sister. “So beautiful! What a charming young girl! So enchanting.” Helene praised her. Which the older girl didn't find the least bit surprising. Her sister was always the prettiest girl she’s known. The eldest sister awkwardly fidgeted with her dark blonde curls as Natasha blushed deep red.

“Countess Bezukhova,” Marya greeted, then turned to her guests. “Pierre's wife.” She explained, Alexa’s green eyes widening. What was Pyotr Kirillovich doing with a woman like Helene? Something seemed amiss, but Marya turned back to Helene. “Have you been here long?” She asked. “And where is dear Pierre? He never used to forget us…”

Natasha’s face lit up. “Yes, Pierre! That good man! A little sad, a little stout.” Alexandra turned to her sister, scandalized and embarrassed by her statement. “He must come visit us.” Natasha said, not noticing her sister’s distraught demeanor.

Helene forced a tight smile. “I will implore him to do so.” She says, then exchanged a look with Dolokhov, whose hand rested on the Countess’s waist.

Marya nodded, leading her guests to their box, while warning the young girls, “Now there’s a woman one should stay far away from.”

Eventually the curtain rose, everyone going silent as the show started. Alexa’s eyes widened in wonder as the foreign opera began. The characters wore bizarre costumes and they overacted, but it was mesmerizing as their beautiful voices filled the room. Alexa looked over at her sister who looked completely lost, not understanding what was happening onstage.

Natasha looked at her sister, who replaced her focus back on the performance, then the younger of the two made a face. She couldn’t wrap her head around what she was witnessing. Cardboard sets, queerly dressed actors, false and unnatural reactions to the plot, and yet everyone seemed to enjoy this? They must’ve been feigning their delight.

Half an act must’ve passed when suddenly a rush of cold air was felt throughout the theatre. Everybody turned in the direction of the source of the temperature change, and Alexa’s breath hitched as an exceedingly handsome man walked in with a self-assured, albeit polite air. He had platinum blonde hair and bright, breathtaking blue eyes.

Marya gasped. “That’s Countess Helene’s brother... “ She explained. “Anatole Kuragin.” He walked down the center aisle jauntily. His stroll would've looked absurd if he wasn’t as attractive as he was. Alexa watched as his sword and spurs shook, walking without a single care in the world; absolutely shameless. He walked to join his sister and Dolokhov in the front row, but not before casting a look at the Rostovas’s box. He grinned and looked toward Alexa and her younger sister.

“Mais Charmante.” was all he said, sitting beside his assassin friend.

Natasha stared at him, holding her sister’s arm. “How handsome he is!” She gushed. “How intoxicating!”

Alexandra was enjoying the opera, but something about this blonde man seemed far more entertaining than the tombstones onstage. She slowly, warily, looked back down in his direction. Her green eyes met his blue ones, and her breath hitched. He leaned in closer to Fedya Dolokhov, speaking in whispers, his eyes still locked on hers. The assassin cast a look over his shoulder toward her. It dawned on her. He was talking about her.

People who were watching the show cheered as the act ended, but all Alexa could do was look back at the man repeatedly, and every time she looked at him, he was gazing at her, and it was absolutely nerve-wracking. It felt too warm in her box so she stepped toward the exit of the box just to get away from the overwhelming heat she felt from the attention.

However, as she walked, a rush of cold air was again felt and Anatole smiled at her as he stood in the way of the box’s entrance.


	2. Alexandra & Anatole

Alexandra stood still, not sure what to do or say, just staring at the confident man. He smiled and leaned against the wall casually. Alexa cast a look toward her family, seated as they watched the show. They were distracted. She was an unclaimed woman with a handsome man. This was almost scandalous.

“I’ve long wished to have this happiness,” He finally spoke, tilting his head a bit. “Ever since the Naryshkins’ ball where I had the well-remembered pleasure of seeing you.” Alexa bit her lower lip. She remembered the ball from nearly a year ago. She and her sister were without a partner. That was not new to Alexa, but Natasha was in tears, before Andrey danced with her and they fell in love. A perfect romance. One she never would live.

Anatole smiled wider and took a step closer. “How do you like the performance?” He quizzed the girl. “Last week Semenova fell down on the stage.” He shared, despite the woman’s lack of answer.

Alexa couldn’t answer, her tongue leaden in her mouth. She barely listened to what he said, just entranced by how he looked at her. His eyes were kind, yet playful, his smile naive. Alexa couldn’t get over how astonishingly handsome he was. He was somehow more attractive up close than at the distance. Alexa took her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at him, silent, as though she lost the ability to speak.

“And do you know, Alexandra, we are having a costume tournament soon? You ought to come, please come.”

The young Countess furrowed her brows, looking away. “Oh-”

Anatole didn’t let her finish. “You ought to come, please come.” He insisted.

Alexa played with her dark blonde curls, pinned to the back of her head. “Oh, I-”

Anatole, again, gazed at her. His eyes trailed from her innocent face to her bare neck and arms. Alexa felt so vulnerable, as though she were naked. She could feel him inspect her. It was as if he was admiring her. As though she were something to be admired. She swallowed thickly as they met each other’s eyes. The girl was frightened as she couldn’t stop staring into the aquatic colored irises.

Alexandra never felt this close with a man. There was something so terribly intimate with the way they gazed at each other. He took a step closer, and Alexa feared he would do something scandalous, such as seize her and kiss her slender neck. She quickly took a step back to create some distance. The blonde woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “How do you like Moscow?” She asked, carefully, nothing else coming to mind.

Anatole smiled. “At first I did not like it much.” He explained. “Because what makes a town pleasant…” He waves a hand in the air, as though trying to come up with the words. “Ce sont les joules femmes (It’s the pretty women). Isn’t that so?” His eyes again raked over the girl and he almost smirked. “But now, I like it.” He decided. “Very much indeed.” He took a step closer to the girl, stroking the back of his hand along her pale arm. “Do come to the costume tournament, Countess, do come!” He asked again. “You will be the prettiest there.” 

Alexa opened her mouth to protest before he placed a slender finger along her plush, pink lips. “You will be the prettiest there.” He repeats. He leaned close to her face, and she could feel his breath tickle her flesh. “Do come, dear Countess.” He took one of the flowers tied in her hair. “And give me this flower as a pledge.” He said with a gentle smile.

The two were speaking of such simple things, but Alexa felt so close with the man. They were alone. No one could see the two of them. His eyes were so kind and hypnotic, she couldn’t even argue. She swallowed deeply and gently pressed her gloved hand against her left breast. Her heart was beating so fast and hard, she could almost hear it.

Suddenly Anatole used his free hand to grab Alexandra’s other wrist. The motion was so unexpected that the Countess let out a gasp, and looked at him in fear. The soldier, however, just smiled at her kindly. “It is alright, Alexandra.” He said, his bare hand trailing up her exposed arm, leaving featherlight touches. “I’m here.” He said, softly. And was right. He looked up and smiled at her. There was nothing between them.

The crowd was applauding at the show and instantly Alexandra could feel the scandal arising. Anatole, however, kept a level head. He smiled at her, kissing her gloved hand, then went back to join his sister and comrade, leaving the young woman alone.


End file.
